Screw (Hell's Handlers MC 8) - Page 63

“Okay, maybe I researched those on my own.” He shrugged. “Sue me.”

Gumby chuckled, then fell silent.

“So what has you out here in the dead of night freezing your balls off? You thinking about Jazz’s story?”

“You could say that.”

Hmm, something was off. His tone too flat, lifeless, guilt ridden. Fuck. He hadn’t even thought twice about kissing Gumby multiple times during their encounter with Jazz. That what had the guy freaking out? Clearly Gumby had reservations about admitting his attraction to men. Was he out to anyone? His own club?

Well, if he hadn’t been, he was now, to at least two people.

“You wanna share what’s goin’ on in that dome of yours, or you hoping my dick’ll freeze so you can break it off.”

No response.

With a sigh, Screw nudged Gumby’s foot with his own. The thing felt like a block of ice. How long had he been out in the cold? “Hey.”

Gumby shifted his gaze.

“We can play this however you want. However you need. Okay? I’m not gonna run to the clubhouse and start spreading our private shit around. You want this to stay on the down low, I can do that.” He gestured between them with his hand before tucking the cold appendage into his armpit.

“Fuck,” Gumby said as he leaned forward to rest his elbows on his thighs. “Haven’t even gotten that far in my freak-out yet. But don’t worry, I’ll get there.”

After huffing out a small laugh, Screw tilted his head and waited. With each passing second, his body grew number, except his toes. They burned like fucking fire.

Eventually, without making eye contact, Gumby said, “We had a date.” It sounded as though those four simple words had sliced his insides as he spoke them.

“What?” Screw frowned. “Who? When?”

“Me and Jazz. We were supposed to go out. First time alone. Fuck, I’d been looking forward to it. For fucking weeks. But some shit came up with the club.” He shrugged and he finally looked at Screw.

The self-hatred in his eyes had Screw’s insides clenching.

“You know how it is. Club comes first. Especially over someone who isn’t an ol’ lady. I had to cancel on her. She didn’t get pissed though. Jazz doesn’t do drama like that. We said we’d pick another day.” He fell silent again as he shook his head.

Dread began to twist Screw’s stomach in a large knot. “When was your date, Gumby?”

So much time passed, he wondered if the other man had heard him but then Gumby said, “The Saturday of Memorial Day weekend. Twenty-eighteen.”

Jesus Christ, it was as though he’d been punched in the gut. All the air whooshed out of Screw, leaving him weak-kneed and shaking. Fuck, the guilt of that would be enough to destroy anyone. Add it to confronting his sexuality, and Gumby had a lot of shit on his plate.

“Gumby, you have to know…”

Gumby lifted a hand. “Don’t say it, Screw. Don’t say it’s not my fault. She wasn’t supposed to be home. There’s only one reason she was home, and it’s me. She even told me she struggled with my part in it. She told me something happened that weekend and for a while she was mad at me.”

“Gumby, she was scared, hurt, traumatized. What happened once she had some distance? Does she still harbor ill feelings toward you?”

He shrugged.

“Pretty sure she wouldn’t have let you get your hands all over her tits tonight if she had a problem with you.”

“Doesn’t matter if she forgives me. Doesn’t mean I didn’t fuck up, Screw.”

With frustration rumbling through his chest, Screw pushed off the column. When he reached Gumby, he threaded his hand through the man’s short hair, catching the strands in a hard grip before tilting his head back to ensure Gumby’s focus. The pain and self-hatred in Gumby’s eyes gutted him. This man fully blamed himself for Jazz’s trauma.

An overwhelming urge to comfort this hurting man swamped Screw. He was so far out of his element here, being the one to ease another’s burdens. Gumby had obviously stepped out of his comfort zone to be with him and Jazz tonight. Screw wanted to give the man something in return. Something to prove he wasn’t just an asshole out for a good time. Something to show he cared. “It’s Luke,” Screw said with a growl, giving the name no one but his president even knew. “Say it.”

“Luke…”

It wasn’t quite the sexual plea he’d been hoping for, but fuck if the name didn’t roll off Gumby’s tongue straight to Screw’s dick. “Listen to me and listen fucking good,” he said, giving Gumby’s head a light shake. “You fucking know this ain’t your fault. If you’ve been with your MC for any amount of time, you know shit happens. Bad fucking shit we could ‘what if’ and ‘if only’ for the rest of our lives. Playing those games doesn’t do shit for Jazz. She doesn’t need the stress of making you feel guilty on top of all she’s dealing with. So take another minute to feel how you need to feel then put it away. It ends right fucking now because it’s not your goddamn fault she has a psychotic and strung out brother who never received the help he needed. Get me?”

Tags: Lilly Atlas Hell's Handlers MC Romance
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